


Smoke

by Findarato



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Drinking, Fade to Black, M/M, suggestions of angst/underlying issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: FollowsFlickers.Galo POV.One too many drinks for Galo + one not-drunk Lio + pizza = Things Happening.





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a direct sequel to Flickers, more of a follow-up after a month of them figuring things out. And having some fun.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is fiction. Drink responsibly ;)

**.**

It's been almost a month since the world was saved.

Galo doesn't remember much of the month except three things: work, paperwork, sleep, and Lio.

Okay, that's four things. But four things that been the constant.

Work was work, he's all for it. There's more than fires to put out and they've had to take things in shifts just so they didn't exhaust everyone. What's left of the Freeze Force has been restructured and integrated into Burning Rescue, so tasks are thankfully less daunting. Only the worst of emergencies will they all pile in on their mechs and gear.

Paperwork is…difficult. Apparently, taxes and legal issues did not disappear like the Promare, and he's been in and out of office, courts, and banks. There's ends to tie up regarding Kray, other leftover shit from the previous governing body. Although, it's not just for him—it's for Lio, too.

Sleep? A blessing. Mornings were cursed, but every time he gets to put his head down and close his eyes, it's one of the best things to look forward to, after pizza. The days when there's little to do he naps at work, with the occasional awakening to sign a paper or to hold a conversation.

And there's Lio. Lio, who currently still stays with him and whose cravats and gloves have taken over Galo's (unused) sock drawer, as well him taking over a quarter of Galo's bed. Also borrowing his clothes. Constantly.

Small wonder the whole month is basically gone and they're all feeling rather drained. Galo didn't think he'd run out of energy, but even he's got limits. Mercifully, Ignis gave them a three-day weekend (It might have to do with Remi walking into work _twice_ without his glasses). They all decide to go drinking, because honestly why not? They did the odd one night here and there but avoided anything heavy because sirens did not combine with hangovers. And maybe some nights he's cracked open a beer and split it with Lio.

Of course he says yes, when Lucia suggests it. Of course they go to their favourite bar, the one that's only three blocks away from his place. Of course he joins in, gladly, when they start daring and chugging. And the chanting. Galo Thymos does not back down from any challenge.

It's the drinking part that's a somewhat bad choice. The other choices he made were okay.

He knows he's bad at holding his drinks. Maybe not the worst, but for some unfortunate, ill-fated, stupid reason, he just can't handle it. Three or four drinks and he's gone, coherency out the window and door and probably fled the city.

At least he's a easygoing drunk, the buzzing between his ears pleasant and warm, his body tingling as well. He's got his head on the bar. The marble is cool, in the best way possible, freezing his cheek slowly. The place is loud, crowded, and honestly a bit much, but the alcohol is like a barrier.

"I didn't know you were this bad."

He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

"One martini, one Old-Fashioned—" A glass of water is suddenly right in front of his face. "And part of a Scorpion Bowl. Oh, and two shots of tequila."

Galo raises his head as slowly as he can. "Hey, it's pretty damn good! Last time we came here, I had whiskey shots and the next thing I knew, I was home."

Lio pushes the water closer. "I'm amazed you still sound like yourself."

"Well, what am I s'pposed to sound like?"

"More sloshed?"

He crunches down on an ice cube. "_Slooooshed_," he says, thoughtfully. "Sloshin' like liquid, back and forth."

"I take back my earlier statement. You're very drunk."

"Duh. I know that already." He can basically feel the water in his system, cooler than the marble he had planted his face on. "How're you not?"

Lio shrugs.

"How many did you have?"

"I did a few shots with everyone, then I ordered…maybe five things? Six?" And he's holding one in his hand now. It's very blue. Is alcohol even possibly that blue?

"Shit. You don't _look_ drunk."

"Looks are deceiving."

"No, but—" Galo tilts forward and brushes the hair out of Lio's face. "You really don't." And his skin feels only normal, not overheated like this. "How?"

Lio draws himself away, expression happening too fast for Galo to fully catch. "I got lucky in life."

"Lucky."

"Mm. Lucky."

"Not fair."

"I didn't make the rules."

That's right. Humans didn't make rules about that. Just like Burnish didn't have a choice in being Burnish. Galo opens his mouth to say that, but the words have already slipped away.

So instead he watches Lio finish that blue, bright blue drink with sugar around the rim. The condensation drips from his fingers, and it's as if he's swallowing in slow motion because everything has paused, even the sounds. A trickle of water runs down his throat, slowly, as he tilts his head back to finish.

His mouth is too dry, despite the water he had just finished. Damn it.

Before he can stop himself, he flags down the bartender. "Hey, can you get me a—" He leans and tries to lower his voice. "The drink with…fire? Not spicy. It's called fire something. The one that really, really burns going down."

Somehow the bartender understands, bless him.

"Are you seriously ordering more, when you're like this?" Is he imagining it, or are Lio's lips tinged in blue as well. Or maybe it's the lights, reflecting against his skin. His hair is almost glowing, a peculiar shade of yellow bordering more on green than usual.

"We're sharing."

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me, you'll like it."

The glass is pushed towards him, amber and hot, but when he touches it, it feels like a normal glass.

Lio's eyes widen, slightly. "Is that—"

"Fireball whiskey? Yeah." Galo drags the glass between them. "Had it before?"

"No."

"You can go first."

Once again, Galo watches him drink. The only reaction Lio has is some rapid blinking, and the way he sets the glass down, carefully.

"How's it?"

"Pretty damn good." Lio looks at the glass. "Fitting name."

"Thought so." Galo raises the glass now, and tips it sharply. It hits his tongue and he steels himself. It's like a tiny personal fire made of liquid, sliding down his throat. He likes to imagines it sinking until he reaches his heart, where it would stay. The buzzing in his head increases again, and he doesn't even realise he nearly drops the glass until Lio grabs his wrist.

"Be careful."

"Yeah, I've got it." He hears the clink of glass against marble before he releases his fingers, one by one. Hm, they tingle too. "Think I'm done."

"You're very done." Lio lets go of his wrist, and he mourns the lost contact. "Drink more water."

Thank goodness for water. "I knew I should've eaten more for dinner."

"There's only so much you can do."

"Yeah, yeah." Time to put his head back down. Maybe. The world hasn't turned upside-down, yet. "What about you?"

"Well, I felt…that." Lio looks at the empty glass. "I can still taste it."

"Me too." He'll be tasting it the rest of the night.

Lio, in that instant, licks his upper lip.

Fuck, but he can't stop himself.

Head spinning, body unsteady, Galo supports himself by gripping Lio's arms, and kisses him. The burn is there between them, sharp and strong, smelling of alcohol. It's nothing like their first kiss, nothing like the flame he had put in his mouth and shared with Lio. It stung his skin, curling against his tongue and throat. It feels scaled by the time they both pull away, to breathe.

Oh yes, they're still at the bar. But one glance tells him no one's really paid them any attention. The only indication of someone noticing was the bartender, with his one raised eyebrow. Everyone else is wrapped up in the music and their own conversations. Lucia is playing cards with Aina, Remi is on his phone, and Varys is shouting at the TV with some other people while drinking a huge glass of beer. No sign of Meis or Guiera.

The figures and background swirl together, and he grips Lio harder.

"Galo." Lio's fingers are tight on his arm. "You okay?"

He starts to nod, then stops. Nodding is a bad idea. "Think I should go home." Now there's a good idea.

"I think you should, yes."

**.**

Three blocks is a long distance when you can't stay upright on your feet. The blur of paying, saying goodbye, running into Guiera outside and saying goodbye a second time felt like seconds. So far, he's tripped over a fire hydrant, the sidewalk, Lio's foot, and his own feet. At some point Lio has gotten Galo's arm draped over his shoulder, and is somehow supporting his weight pretty well.

"Lio…'m not light." He tries to say, for the fifth time. "I can walk."

"You nearly hit your face on a lamppost. No." Lio trudges on, and Galo follows the best he can.

"Aww, just walk slower. I'll be fine."

"No."

He puts his saddest face on, but in this darkness, it's not really that effective. So Galo forces himself to put one foot in front of the other, avoiding large cracks in the sidewalk.

"So," he tries, this time for conversation. "Was that fun?"

"Mm. It was nice, to relax."

"Relax and let loose. I saw you doin' all those shots."

"Well, there was a bet."

"Did you win?"

Lio's laughter tickles his ear. "I didn't pay for a single drink tonight."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes."

Impressive. He himself has done a dare or two—with varying success and failure. Mostly failure. "No wonder you were smiling so much."

A pause. "I was smiling a lot?"

"Yeah? Your eyes were glowing. You looked good. You looked like you were…alive?" Ah, he's lost his words.

"Galo, if I didn't look alive, then what actually am I?"

"Liooo…" he struggles, and nearly trips again, watching as a can loudly rolls away from his shoe. "You were…radiating?" That's hardly the right word. Galo drags his hand through his hair. "You know what I mean!"

"I think I do. You mean I looked happy and at ease, right?"

"Yeah! That's what I meant!" Oops, his voice is so loud that he can feel his own ears ringing. "You don't relax enough."

"Oh, I know how to relax."

"No, I mean you don't really relax even when you're not working. You're kinda guarded most of the time."

Lio sighs a little. "It's a habit."

"No one's going to jump out at you and arrest you."

"I know."

"It's been a month."

"It doesn't really feel like it." They turn the corner and Galo's relieved; just down the street and they'd be home. Lio pulls him out of the way of a giant hole left by an uprooted tree that is still unfixed. "Old habits die hard."

"But did you really sleep with a knife under your pillow when you were Burnish."

"No."

"Do you really need the knife there?"

Without skipping a beat, Lio responds. "No." He knows. He knows that Galo knows.

But he's too drunk to parse the details of it and why it bothers him. And he doesn't feel like pushing for answers tonight, not when it had been a good night and they're on break. Instead, he slides his arm down so that he can wrap it against Lio's waist, stopping the two of them against a building wall.

"You're pretty warm."

Lio's sides spasm against his arm in as he chuckles. "It's probably the Fireball. I'll be cold again soon enough."

"Not when I'm holding you like this. Or when I do this." Something about drunk kisses make them the messiest, most memorable thing. The sounds inside his head are spinning along with his balance and he bumps his forehead to Lio's as they kiss. Over and over until Lio scrabbling at the wall and stops him with a hand against his neck.

"You're going to fall over if you keep this up."

As much as he hates to admit it, it's true.

And then Lio has his arm against Galo's back, fingers digging into the belt loop. "How are you feeling?"

"Like pizza."

"…come again?"

"Um. I want pizza, I mean." And water. Maybe a shower to clear his head too. And more kissing.

Lio chuckles, tugging him away from the wall. "Soon."

Not soon enough.

Once they're at the apartment steps, the stairs almost trip him, because he can't tell them apart. He is very thankful for the banister and Lio's steadying hand, still against his back. The taste of alcohol is still in his mouth and he really, really wants it gone.

"Do you need help, or…" Lio gestures once they're inside Galo's apartment.

The buzz can stay. He puts his temple against the wall. "I won't say no to extra helping _hands_."

Lio jabs his side, gently. "I'll order. You get in the shower."

"Going, going."

**.**

It's probably a skill that Lio can time the arrival of the delivery just as Galo steps out of the bathroom, still reeling but less fuzzy. He shuffles into the living and finds Lio already eating a slice—halfway through, in fact.

"I'm not the only one wanting pizza? Nice."

"It's good pizza," Lio says, but not before swallowing. He's always been particular about that. He extends the box as Galo sits himself down on the couch next to him.

Pizza is somehow the best thing when drunk. The flavour cuts through the fog of alcohol, and the texture of cheese and tomatoes and bread melts in his mouth. He finishes it in a few bites, and slowly exhales.

"Better?" Lio's voice is tinged in amusement. He's already on his second piece.

"For sure." The crunch of crust, browned and coating his fingers in flour, is perfect. There is no such thing as bad pizza, unless it's from a certain chain that he won't speak of. "I could live on pizza."

"Galo…you actually sort of do."

"Oh. You're right." He gets pizza every week, at least three times. "I can't live without pizza, then."

"You already proving that you can't."

"Damn." Seems like his reasoning is still tangled up in his drunken state.

They finish the first box and Lio kicks open the other one. "I got a different flavour."

"Really?"

"It's got pesto."

"Huh." It's…rather green and white, not as red.

"Try it." Lio holds a slice out to him.

Galo takes a bite; surprisingly, it's not too bad. A lot of basil, with garlic, some other spices he can't identify, and the usual cheese and crust. He takes another bite.

Lio pulls it away. "This one's mine."

"But you let me have a taste." He tries to lean in but gets a hand bumping against his chin.

"Because I wanted you to try." It's rather amusing to see Lio cramming pizza into his mouth. He points the box.

Fine, he'll get his own slice. But that doesn't stop him from leaving a bit at the end, which he offers it to Lio because he knows Lio likes the crust. There's the lightest contact of lips against his pointer finger when Lio bites.

He touches his pointer finger with his thumb, before he reluctantly wipes his hands on a napkin. "Thanks for ordering."

Lio nods, and tilts his head back.

Galo does the same, feeling his neck muscles relaxing as he stretches out. Lio's knee is firmly pressed against his, and he lets his hand slowly wander down Lio's shoulder, his arm, and then his leg.

"Hey. Lio."

Lio's head lolls toward his direction.

"I want to kiss you. Again."

Lio is unfazed by this request. He merely presses the napkin over his mouth, then his hands. "Okay," is his response. Very casual, very at ease.

Galo grins as he leans in. Somewhat greasy, basil-y and cheesy. It's more the texture that is surprising, but he persists. Lio is hardly passive; when the kiss, they're very much in tune. It's also convenient that Lio borrows his shirts and they'll always be loose on him, making it perfect to slide his fingers against skin, against the ridges of bones and muscles. He can feel every movement of Lio's spine and the shift of his hips, and there's the telltale signs of this going in certain directions.

"Hey," he says, after he's pulled back to get air back in his lungs. "Lio." It's a bit more dizzying than usual, probably because he's still buzzed.

Lio always has the perfect flush on his face, just in his cheeks. "What?"

"The only other times I see you really relaxed—" Galo strokes his thumbs against the inside of Lio's thighs. "—is times like this."

"Heh." Lio's hands fit over his, fingers interlacing. "Maybe that's a talent of yours."

"Bringing out the passionate, burning flame in you?"

"Idiot." As usual, there isn't any true ire to Lio's voice. "If you're going to be sappy, it's in not just me." He swings his leg over Galo's lap, straddling him. "You bring it out of both of us."

He loves saying shit like this, just for the reaction. "Aw, is that my talent?"

"Maybe."

"I wish we could pilot another big, cool mech together."

"Not much chance in that anymore. But this is almost like it."

In some ways, it is. Shared space, shared intentions, shared movements…Galo tugs at the shirt; Lio raises his arms, letting it fall next to the empty pizza boxes.

"Cold?" he asks, out of habit.

Lio shakes his head. "Not tonight." And as if to prove his point, he presses himself up against Galo. It's Galo who ends up shivering, even as his hands find Lio's back again to hold him there.

"You're beautiful. You know that, right?" He mumbles this into Lio's neck, finding that he needs the support.

"You say that a lot."

Does he? "I mean it a lot."

Lio is slowly grinding his hips, the motion of it causing Galo to slowly inhale. "I'm sure you do."

"Lio—"

"You also say my name a lot."

Well, what else is he supposed to do? He slides a little lower on the couch; Lio compensates easily for this, sliding as well and pulling at fabric as he goes.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"You really want to—"

Lio is already on his knees. "Yes?"

They're drunk. Well, Galo's drunk and Lio's somewhere between tipsy and drunk. Or maybe he's just good at handling himself and not showing it. He doesn't really know.

"If you're sure." There goes his pants, down around his feet.

He actually doesn't know how Lio can fit him. Are all mouths the same size, or is he just good at it? Lio's motions are fluid and steady, for the best of sensations that make Galo grip the couch and dig his toes in the carpet. Not to mention he's quite good at fixing his eyes on Galo as he works him.

Thank goodness he's sitting, because he would've lost his balance by now. Definitely if they had banged outside, he would've collapsed.

He curls a strand of Lio's hair against his finger, attempting to lightly tug, in juxtaposition to what he really wants to do. What did they call them, intrusive thoughts? He has a mind to yank Lio as hard as he can, and thrust his hips as far as he could do. But that's just thoughts. Lio's cheeks are more flushed than before, and he swipes his thumb across one side.

"_Wait_." He almost chokes on the word. "Get back up here." Please.

When Lio stands, Galo is heaving himself forward as fast as the buzzing of his mind would let him, stripping them of the rest of their clothes, and lifting Lio back onto his lap.

Somehow, gracefully, Lio reaches over him for the drawer where they keep supplies.

"You're not too drunk to do this, are you?" Coyly, or as coy as someone can look holding a pack of condoms.

Galo grins. "Of course not."

**.**

The hangover hits him in the middle of night; he wakes up covered in a layer of sweat, hands cold and back hurting. The blankets are still on him, somehow. He sits up, tries to swallow, and coughs at the dryness of it.

Next to him, Lio turns over, and Galo can make out the shape of him reaching for something on the nightstand—a glass of water. He passes it over, and Galo finishes it in three gulps.

"Ugh." This is going to last until late morning. His stomach twists, and he looks towards the door.

Lio's hand is on his arm. "Wastebasket's next to the bed."

"Thanks." His voice sounds like it's been crumpled like a sheet of paper, then shredded and tosses out. "I don't think I need it." Not yet; the sick feeling is sitting low in his stomach. If it attempts to crawl up his throat, though…

"Galo." Lio pats his back; he concentrates on the motion. "More water?"

"M' good for now." He slowly inches himself back down, head on the pillow. He drags his hair out of his eyes, and twists to face away from Lio. "Sorry."

The hand doesn't leave his back, but instead draws slow, calming circles against his shoulder blades. He breathes slowly, in time to every circle traced. "Sorry you have to see me like this."

"I think it was eventual, the longer I stay here."

"You say that, but I haven't seen all sides of you yet."

Lio's hand falters for just a hint of a second, before it resumes its pathway. "You've seen plenty of me."

"Not everything." There's still a lot he doesn't know, a lot that he's still understanding. Maybe he knows that Lio hates zucchini and prefers pickles, or that his favourite colours are blue and red, and he even knows that Lio has many, many sleepless nights, but it's still mostly surface. Even know what makes him laugh or sad doesn't seem to over it.

The sides that Lio casually puts aside, where he clenches his jaw and holds the coldest glare with the hottest anger in his eyes. Or when he looks away and makes an effort to not show a trace of emotion on his face, like the armour he used to manifest when he was Burnish. All those sides.

But Galo's fucking drunk and there's only so much he can make Lio _say_. And it's not now. Pry too much, and it's like blowing out a flame they're still building. Hungover or no, he manages to roll back, hands seeking out Lio's frame. He drapes his arm over him, chin against the top of Lio's head. He smells mostly the same, with the addition of alcohol still persisting, and maybe a hint of cigarette from the bar itself. The smells don't make him feel worse, interestingly enough.

"Someday," he hears himself saying. "You'll let me see."

Lio is still against him, not completely but mostly relaxed. Maybe he knows Galo can tell when he's not, but he doesn't seem annoyed, since he's still there. He does sigh, however, and Galo feels it, sinking into him. "I'll think about it."

"You gotta put up with me until then."

"Funny, drunk you is actually more endearing."

He groans. "Lioooo."

"Though you talk even more when you're drunk. I didn't think that was possible."

Damn the dark, it's impossible to make expressions or see them. "Am I even more of an idiot?"

"You're still the same idiot." Lio's legs curl against his. "A really nice one," he says, voice oddly soft.

The sound of his own laughter is loud, even to him. "Yeah, well." Is the twisting in his stomach part of the alcohol, or something else? Galo grasps at a safe answer. "Better make sure to stick around, because there's no one else like me."

"I believe you."

_If you believe me now, believe me the other times when I say something meaningful. _He swallows the words in favour of closing his eyes.

He can only trust in the fact Lio stays, his proximity obviously meaning that he doesn't mind Galo's company. Likes it even, if Galo counts the sex.

"Next time, you can be the drunk one. I'll be the one handing you the water."

"Good luck of that happening."

"Trust me, I'll find a way." He makes many impossible things happen. That's his specialty.

** _.End._ **

****  


**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I live for vodka-based drinks and almost anything cider. Had one sip of a fireball cider and needed to stop myself because that shit is dangerous(ly good).
> 
> Not sure when my next promare fic will be posted, but it'll be related, to keep the momentum going. In the meantime I'm on twitter (finwion), retweeting too much promare fanart


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